


waiting as my heart drops and my back begins to tingle

by sydneyharbour



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: A tiny bit, American AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingering, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, I think that's it - Freeform, M/M, Oh, Oops, Pining, You never know with me, because who doesn't love a bit of dirty talk, is winter aesthetics a tag??, let me know if there's anything else!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:13:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6829183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sydneyharbour/pseuds/sydneyharbour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An American AU in which Harry and Louis meet in a club, Niall knows everything and Liam is always right.</p><p>or, the one where Larry bond over cookie dough and eventually find each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	waiting as my heart drops and my back begins to tingle

**Author's Note:**

> Soo, this fic has been my baby for a while and I'm so excited to send it out into the world. I hope you love it as much as I do.
> 
> Many many thanks to my beta Jess ([traumatic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/profile)) for picking up on the astronomical spelling and grammatical errors that always grace my work. This fic would not be up without you, and I am forever grateful.
> 
> Title from 'Chasing Pavements' by Adele, and loosely based on [this](https://www.facebook.com/humansofnewyork/photos/pb.102099916530784.-2207520000.1463035836./1157449734329125/?type=3&theater) Humans of New York post.
> 
> xx

The feeling of whiskey sliding down Harry’s throat thaws his body as he makes himself comfortable in the fort of pillows laid out on his bed. In Harry's mind, there is absolutely nowhere he would rather be. Spending a night in with Jack Daniels and Chelsea Handler is his idea of a perfect night in. 

Snow covers the ground outside his apartment as speckles collect at the windows' edges. It's early December, and frankly, Harry can’t think of a month he enjoys more. 

He loves the weather—the snow and the rain and the cold—the steaming cups of tea and hot chocolate, the scarfs and beanies he bundles onto himself whenever he ventures outside, and the burrowing amongst blankets and duvets without worrying about getting too hot.

And who can forget Christmas? Oh, how Harry loves it. There is nothing better than the decorations and lights that litter the neighbourhood, or the soft echo of Christmas carols that can be heard walking home all month long. There's an atmosphere that comes along with Christmas that just can't be matched by any other holiday of the year.

Harry burrows deeper into his pile of pillows as he turns the page of his novel. The air inside his apartment is slightly chilly, but the weight of his duvet and the alcohol in his system warm him to the core. It's so silent, so peaceful.

And, of course, the moment Harry begins to lose himself in the wise words of Ms. Handler, his phone rings. The shrill tone pierces the air and startles Harry, causing the whiskey in his hand to slosh over the sides of the glass and onto his sheets.

"Fuck."

Extracting himself precariously from his bed, Harry places the glass on his nightstand and shoves in a bookmark before tossing the novel, too. He answers his phone as he heads for the kitchen.

"Hello?" Harry says into the phone as he picks up a towel and runs it under some warm water.

He's made a proper mess.

"Yeah, hey mate. It's Niall," the Irish accent is a dead giveaway for the lunatic Harry calls a best friend.

"Hey Niall, this better be important. You just made me spill whiskey all over my sheets,” Harry whines as he wipes at his duvet, attempting to lighten the browning stain.

Niall's cackle is the only thing Harry hears for the next few minutes before he finally speaks, "Harry, you spilt that whiskey all on your own. You're just a klutz."

"Hey! I am not a klutz.”

It's kind of—very—true, but who is he to give Niall the satisfaction of being told he's right?

The stain isn't letting up, so Harry tosses his towel to the floor and decides he'll just have to throw the whole thing in the wash tomorrow morning.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Niall mumbles and Harry is about to protest when Niall continues. "Anyway, the reason I called is because I want you to come out tonight. Liam and I are heading to Fire Island because we heard they've got some sort of rave going on at Spike tonight. We want you to come, too."

"Niall, I'm not coming. I've already set up my bed for the night; I've got Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang and a glass of whiskey sitting on my nightstand just waiting to be finished. I don't want to come out. Have fun without me." 

Harry's firm and decisive and won't let himself be swayed. Niall isn't dragging Harry out for a night on the town. Harry won't allow it. 

"Harry," Niall drawls in his ear. "Don't be a shut in. You're acting like a fucking baby. Put down your shite book—Chelsea won't be offended—and hit the town with us tonight! There's whiskey on Fire Island, you know."

Harry's brow furrows and he ignores Niall's stupid simile. He is not a baby. 

Babies can't drink whiskey, after all. 

"Wait. Fire Island? Spike? Niall, you do know that's a gay club? As in, guys getting it on and a probably extremely limited selection of girls? Which is the gender you like, right?"

"Of course I know that. And yes, I very much like girls. But Liam hasn't had any action in months and I'm willing to sacrifice for a brother.”

Harry can practically see Niall's chest puffed up in pride.

"How generous of you," Harry scoffs. 

He knows as well as anyone that Niall really wants to go to Fire Island for the cheap booze. Harry's not an idiot. 

"I'm still not going. Sorry, Niall."

"Why? You think you'll have a better time sitting alone in your apartment than out with your two best friends, scoping out the hot guys? As if." It's Niall's turn to scoff and Harry wonders how long he'll have to argue with him. "How about this? If you come tonight, I'll bake you cookies. Obviously not from scratch—you'll have to buy cookie dough—but I will."

Harry's ears perk up at the mention of cookies. He's obviously no sucker for Niall's half arsed attempts at convincing him to go out, but he is a sucker for anything remotely related to cookies.

"What kind of cookies? How many?" Harry asks, careful to suss out the terms and conditions before agreeing to anything.

"Whatever kind of cookie dough you buy, mate. I don't know, maybe two batches? But only if you come out tonight, and stay the entire time."

Harry sighs and he hears a snicker on the other end of the line. Niall knows he's got him.

"Make it three and you've got yourself a deal," Harry says and Niall whoops, causing Harry to hiss and pull his phone away from his ear.

"Yes! I knew you'd cave, I fucking knew it!" 

As much as he wants to be mad at Niall for convincing him to give up his perfect night in, he can't help but smile. He hasn't seen the guys in two weeks and he supposes this might be fun.

"Okay, okay, you win, I get it. I can't believe you're making me come out in the middle of bloody winter. I'm going to go get dressed and run to the supermarket. I'll be there soon."

"Don't be so dramatic, Haz. It's only December. Love you," Niall sing songs and Harry hears the click that signals Niall's gone before he even has the chance to open his mouth.

After Harry hangs up and sees the red 19% in the top left hand corner of the screen, he plugs his phone into the charger, figuring another 20 minutes is better than nothing, before grabbing some clothes out of his wardrobe.

Harry tugs on a pair of black skinny jeans that are ripped open at the knees before he reconsiders and instead, wrenches on a fully intact pair. It is winter, after all. He yanks on a red plaid shirt over a grey skivvy before pulling on his parka. He grabs his gloves from his dresser before stopping to inspect himself in the mirror. His hair is kind of a mess but he doesn't have the patience for it tonight, so he grabs a beanie and pulls it over his lengthening curls.

Stopping in the kitchen, Harry fills a bottle of water for the journey and yanks his phone off the charger, slipping it into the pocket of his jacket. He spends a couple of moments searching for his keys before he spots them by the kettle and heads for the door. He bends down to pull on his boots before he leaves the comfort of his apartment and locks the door behind him.

The walk from Harry's house to the subway isn't a long one, but it's 39 degrees and it feels like forever. His water bottle is beginning to freeze, so he gulps down as much as he can before it does. He should've made a smoothie. 

As he approaches the station, his phone buzzes with a text and he fishes it out of his pocket.

We'll meet you inside Spike. See you then.

Harry huffs a little bit as he shoves his phone back into his pocket. Of course his friends won't even wait for him before they start drinking. Great.

Thankfully, the subway is nowhere near full and he hunches down into a seat. There are four stops until his, and, without the use of his phone in a ploy to save battery, Harry settles for people watching. He always notices so many interesting characters on the subway.

A man with earmuffs and a gold tooth sits opposite him, reading a copy of Inventory.

The lady to Harry's right is rocking a baby in her arms and whispering what Harry thinks are spells one would learn at Hogwarts.

Further down the carriage, there's a man drawing on a sketchpad with pink mittens on, and Harry wonders just how that works.

People are truly fascinating.

-

When Harry arrives at the corner store a few blocks down from the station, he's shivering a  
little bit and eager to get inside. The warm air within the shop draws blood to Harry's cheeks and he heads towards the baking section. He decides on three different flavours: chocolate chip, m&m's and triple chocolate chip. He passes through the registers and begins his walk back to the subway.

His next stop is only one station over, so Harry's second journey on the train is considerably quicker than the first. It's only a short walk to catch the ferry and he pulls out his annual pass as he approaches the ticket checker, who waves him through.

The ferry ride is quick and surprisingly smooth. Harry hails a cab when he arrives and lets the driver know where to go.

While he's pulling money out of his wallet, Harry wonders how he let Niall convince him to take such a long and hassling journey by himself.

Jumping out of the cab, Harry stares at the entrance to Spike for a moment, considering his options. He doesn't really want to do this, but he's got a bag of cookie dough in his hand and the promise of actual cookies later so he braves the club and flashes his ID to the bouncer.

-

Spike is pumping. The loud throb of the music vibrates through the whole place, rippling through Harry and giving him pins and needles. If he’s being honest, it makes him feel a bit sick—the quick and ill coloured flash of the strobe lights, and the crackle his shoes make with the layer of sticky things covering the floor from spilt drinks.

The club is crowded as hell and there are guys everywhere, with the occasional scatter of women. Harry doesn't see Niall or Liam anywhere so he walks further into the club, scanning the room for blonde and buff.

Harry is squashed between sweaty bodies as he makes his way to the bar and all the layers of clothes he has on begin to overheat him. He collapses onto a bar stool and begins pulling off his gloves and beanie, before yanking off his parka and draping it over the stool next to him. When the bartender asks Harry what he wants, he says, "Old No. 7 please," because he'll be damned if he can't enjoy his whiskey just because he hasn't got a novel to pair it with.

Harry's eyes flit around the club for a while longer before he spots Niall's head of bleached blonde hair, with a touch of fading purple from when he lost a bet a couple of weeks ago. He's pressed up against a gorgeous girl with long brown hair and they're grinding so dirtily that even Harry has to look away.

He doesn't have to look far to find Liam, who's sweaty and pushed up against the wall by a guy considerably smaller. They're making out and show no signs of slowing down anytime soon.

Great, Harry thinks. His two best friends dragged him all the way out to have a good night and they've gone and forgotten he exists in favour of stingy club hook-ups. Harry does not huff about it. He definitely does not.

He almost goes to put on his jacket before he spots the bag of cookie dough in the corner of his eye. Whiskey and cookie dough. Why not? Breaking the first packet open, Harry takes a sip of whiskey before popping a chunk of dough into his mouth, moaning at the taste. Delicious. Harry doesn't know why he hadn't thought of this combination sooner.

The music's a little too loud and the lights are a little too bright, but Harry doesn't mind as he sits at the bar, ploughing through his cookie dough and watching the club in front of him.

Harry's almost finished the first packet of cookie dough when he sees him.

He's leaning against the DJ booth across the club and staring right back at Harry. All Harry can think is how goddamned beautiful the guy is.

Upon closer inspection, Harry realises that the man is around his age, maybe a little bit older, judging from the slight creases around his eyes and the corners of his mouth. Probably from laughing, Harry thinks. He has caramel coloured hair that's styled in a quiff but slightly ruffled. There's a light smattering of stubble covering the man's cheeks, creeping up over his cheekbones and inching towards his side burns. He is kind of beautiful: simultaneously soft and rugged, even through the strobe lights and thickening fog within the club.

He's wearing tight black jeans with rips all over them, despite the weather, and an Adidas hoodie. Not exactly what Harry would deem 'club attire', but he wonders how anyone can look so good after putting in so little effort.

The last thing Harry notices is his height. Judging by the tiny difference between him and the DJ booth, Harry guesses he must be considerably small, and the thought of a height difference makes Harry's cheeks burn and his stomach flip.

When Harry's eyes make their way back up to the man's face as he continues to munch on his cookie dough, he notices that the man is still staring at him. Harry's face heats up at the thought that he was caught absolutely 100% staring. When he realises that the man is also staring at him, the embarrassment eases up a bit, and he pops another piece of dough into his mouth, chewing on it slowly before swallowing. The man's eyes follow Harry's movements before flitting back down to the packet of cookie dough in his hand. Harry thinks he sees longing flash across the man's face and the next thing he knows, he's grabbed his things and is pushing his way through the swarm of bodies, cookie dough at the ready.

The man watches Harry as he approaches and when he finally reaches the booth, neither of them say anything. Harry clears his throat and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.

Instead, he offers up the cookie dough in his hand and watches, enthralled, as the man reaches out and tears a bit off, popping it into his mouth. Harry's mesmerised. He watches the man eat for a few moments more before shaking himself out of his trance and moving to lean against the DJ booth only a few inches away. He takes a piece of his cookie dough himself and offers more to the man.

They watch each other for a moment while taking turns at tearing off pieces of the dough,  
before the man turns to watch the club. Harry feels the absence of the man's eyes, but goes to do the same.

It sort of just becomes a thing. They don't talk and they don't really look at each other, except for when there's the occasional bump of their hands as they both reach for the dough at the same time.

They're almost finished the final packet when something slams into him, knocking him sideways.

"Harreh! Where the fuck 'ave you been, man? We thought you'd never come!" Niall's voice is booming in Harry's ear, but it hardly feels significant to the music blaring from the speakers.

"Right here, Niall. I came in and you were busy, and Liam was busy, so I just chilled," Harry replies, keeping Niall upright as he clings to him. 

After he's spoken, Harry realises that he can't actually see Liam anywhere, "Where's Liam?"

Realisation seems to dawn on Niall's face because he shakes himself out of his daze, grabbing Harry by the shoulders.

"Liam's outside. He's vomiting! I think he actually got food poisoning. We need to take him home."

Harry's eyes widen at the news and he starts shoving on his coat before pulling on his beanie and gloves. There's a cough from somewhere behind Harry and he starts, almost having forgotten about the man he'd shared his food with. He's staring at Harry with big, piercing blue eyes that send jolts down Harry's spine.

"Come on, Harry! Hurry up. We have to go!" Harry turns back around as Niall grabs his hand and tries to tug him away. Harry resists, not yet ready to leave this perfect stranger. 

Harry turns back to the man quickly to see he's holding Harry's cookie dough out to him. Harry just stares at his hand for a little bit before he speaks.

"Keep it."

The man's eyes widen and a smile tugs at his perfect, pink lips. He opens his mouth to say something but is very rudely cut off by Niall.

"I'm not joking, Styles. We're leaving." Niall grumbles before hurling Harry away.

Harry watches the man until he can't see him anymore and silently curses Niall, his awful timing, and his lack of manners.

When they reach the outside of the club, Niall immediately rushes over to a retching Liam, with Harry following quickly behind.

"Oh, my goodness. Liam. What did you eat?" Harry asks as he rubs his hand over his friends back.

In between gaspy, wet breaths, Liam mumbles out something that sounds suspiciously like 'seafood' and Harry rolls his eyes so hard it hurts. Liam should have known not to eat seafood while he was drinking. Even Harry knows the seafood in a club is usually hot and bacteria infested.

"Okay, we have to get you home. Niall, hail a cab please."

They wait for about two minutes, both Niall and Harry whispering positivity to Liam as he continues to vomit. It's slowed down by the time the cab arrives and they carefully haul Liam inside, making sure he has a window seat in case he needs to make a hasty exit.

The ride to the ferry seems short and the actual ferry ride itself, shorter. Niall and Harry take turns supporting the weight of Liam's body, and if he vomits over the side a couple of times, no one has to know.

Niall and Harry decide, without a discussion, that they'll all go to Harry's place. It's the closest, and realistically, he probably has more medicine and food than the other two combined.

Stopping a couple of times to let Liam vomit into the gutter, they finally make it to the subway and head home.

-

Once Liam is drugged up and safely tucked into the bed in Harry's guest room, with a cup of water and a bucket next to his bed, Niall and Harry collapse onto his couch.

"That was heckers," Niall says sleepily and, by the time Harry looks over to reply, Niall's already fast asleep.

Harry sighs and slowly pulls himself off the couch. He grabs Niall's legs gently to coax him into a horizontal position along the couch, and fetches two blankets from his linen cupboard. He lays them softly over Niall before leaning down to give the Irishmen a kiss on the forehead.

Harry flips off the lights as he heads to his bedroom and shuts the door quietly before collapsing onto his bed. He doesn't think he'll have the strength or motivation to shower tonight, so he'll just do it in the morning.

He starts peeling off his clothes, one item at a time, and even though it should be an easy task, it feels like the hardest thing in the world. Harry didn't realise how tired he was until now and his eyes droop like there're weights resting on his eyelids.

While Harry lies in his bed, he finally lets himself think about the man at the club. He was so handsome, so mesmerising, and so beautiful. Harry didn't even hear him speak once, but he can imagine he has a beautiful voice; Harry imagines it's kind of rough, but a little bit higher than usual. Harry imagines it sounds like sunlight warming your face.

"Wow," Harry says to himself. "Calm down, Harry. You're never going to see this guy again. You can't start pining over a guy whose name you don't even know."

Harry's mind thinks differently. If you pine after people you see on the bus and checkout boys, why can't you pine after a boy you shared cookie dough with?

Harry shakes his head in an attempt to clear it and reaches up to flick off the light, before crawling up under his covers and closing his eyes. His last thought before he falls asleep is that he's going to have to buy more cookie dough tomorrow, because he'll be damned before he lets Niall get away with not baking him cookies.

-

It's February and Harry had wished for the blue eyed man from the club when he blew out the candles for the 20th time. It's turning out to be a longer and colder winter than anyone could have predicted. It's still snowing, almost every day, and some days Harry swears he can feel his bones freezing. He used to love winter, and he doesn't know what's changed.

Harry's cuddled into his couch with Niall on one side and Liam on the other, with a blanket settled over the three of them. They're watching reruns of Friends and they each have a mug of hot cocoa in their hands.

Harry is paying attention, he swears. If his mind just happens to be wandering to cookie dough man—as Harry has uniquely named him—then that's not his fault. Right?

It’s been happening for a while. Every couple of days, Harry will get a little somber when he remembers the man he met on Fire Island and how he had the opportunity to get his number, but didn't. And Harry might mentally kick myself for a while, but then he gets over it.

Niall seems to have noticed something in Harry's face because he clears his throat.

"Harry, please tell me you're not still pining over the guy you met on Fire Island two months ago?" He says it with a little bit of hope in his voice but something in Niall's eyes tells Harry he already knows the answer.

When Harry opens his mouth to reply and nothing comes out, Niall sighs dramatically.

"Are you serious, Harry? That was ages ago! How are you still pining?!” Niall exclaims, and Harry's a little worried because Niall's started to go slightly red in the face.

Harry glances at Liam for some back up, but he's just watching the exchange with a somewhat thoughtful expression on his face.

"I'm not pining! I don't know what you're talking about," Harry huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and sticking his nose up in the air.

"Harry, we're your best friends. Sometimes, we know you better than you know yourself, so don't even try and convince us that you've not been fucking pining over him, you bastard. You’ve been and you need to stop."

Harry's eyebrows furrow, "So what if I have? Why do I need to stop? It's harmless."

It's apparently Liam's time to pipe up.

"It's not harmless, Harry. It's actually quite dangerous. You're stopping your life for this guy you didn't even get the name of. You didn't even talk, for goodness sake! You know nothing about him and I doubt you'll ever meet him again. You can't keep pining over nothing. It's unhealthy. And I know it might seem harsh, but I'm your friend and I care about you."

Liam sucks in a breath when he's done and Harry can't help smile softly. He knows his friends only want the best for him. He also knows they're right. Harry just doesn't know how to let his heart know that it needs to stop fluttering whenever he thinks about cookie dough man.

"He's right, Harry," Niall's voice comes from behind Harry and he nods. 

He knows Liam's right. He just wishes he wasn't.

"I know, I know. You guys are always right. I hate it.”

Niall and Liam both laugh at Harry’s whining, before bundling Harry up in a rib-crushing hug.

"I love you both so much. You know that right?"

"We know, Haz," Liam says softly, squeezing Harry's waist a little tighter.

"We love you too, you fucker," Niall states, before promptly smushing his lips into Harry's face and smattering it with kisses until Harry pushes him off.

They all snuggle back into the sofa and continue watching TV. It's a while until anyone speaks again.

"It's getting kind of late. Don't you have work in the morning, Haz?" Liam asks, looking down at his watch with his eyebrows pulled together.

Harry rolls his eyes. It's only 8pm.

"Yeah, I do. I have to be there at eight in the morning for a meeting. Our marketing manager was fired last week and they're promoting someone. I kind of hope it's me, but I don't think it will be," Harry replies, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Now that he thinks about it, he is kind of tired.

"Wow, that's fucking huge. Why didn't you tell us before?" 

"I just forgot, I guess. It doesn't seem like a big deal."

Liam looks horrified, "Not a big deal?! Of course it is! Our little Hazza might be getting a promotion to one of the most sought after jobs in the city!"

"Maybe. Don't get your hopes up," Harry says, mostly for himself. 

He knows how disappointed he'll be if he doesn't get it. He just wants to prevent the inevitable. 

"Well, I agree with Liam. We're going. And you're getting some sleep," Niall says as he pulls himself off the couch and practically runs to grab his coat from the hook.

"Alrighty-roo," Harry sings as he too heads to the door, Liam trailing behind him.

Harry hugs each of the boys individually, and mutters an "I love you" into each one's ear. He opens the door for them and holds it as they both walk out, watching as they stop just outside the threshold.

"Good luck," Liam says, smiling softly. "You'll do great."

"You'll fucking smash it!" Niall yells, and Harry doesn’t even have the care to tell him to pipe down before he wakes the neighbours.

Harry smiles at his friends' retreating backs and watches them until they've disappeared into the elevator. Closing the door behind him, Harry heads for the shower.

After he's showered and in his pyjamas, with his teeth brushed, Harry crawls into bed and draws the duvet up to his chin, praying for a dream free and good night’s sleep.

-

When Harry's alarm goes off at 6am the following morning, he screams and slaps it off his nightstand. He yanks a pillow over his head a tries his hardest to block out the awful shrilling. After a while, Harry realises he actually has work in 2 hours and hauls himself out of bed.

Getting dressed is easy. Harry essentially wears the same thing every day, with slight variations in style and colour. He pulls on a pair of skinny jeans, a skivvy, a purple sweater, and a scarf. He fusses with his hair a little before he settles on a beanie. 

The wind looks wild anyway. 

Harry heads to the kitchen to make himself a smoothie before grabbing his keys, pulling on his jacket, and heading out.

Harry's commute to work is reasonably long, hence the early morning wake up call, and by the time he arrives, he's desperate for a coffee. He almost gets one too, before he reminds himself that he gave up caffeine for a reason—it's bad for the soul.

Instead, he settles on grabbing an apple from the bowl the office always keeps on the front desk and crosses his fingers as he enters the elevator.

-

Harry can't stop smiling. His cheeks hurt, and it feels like he's been grinding his back teeth for the past hour, but he can't help it. He got the promotion. He got it. He, Harry Styles, has been promoted to Marketing fucking Manager.

After he'd exited the elevator at work, all of his contenders and himself had hustled into the boardroom and quickly taken their seats around the table. Harry had been sitting on the very edge of his seat, with his legs shaking on their own accord and his teeth gnawing at his fingernails. You could have probably cut the tension with a knife.

Nick Grimshaw, CEO and founder of the company, had wasted no time in announcing that, "The new Marketing Manager for the firm, effective immediately, is none other than Mr. Harry Styles."

Everyone had cheered, but Harry had been frozen in his seat. It was James, one of Harry's long-time work friends, who'd hauled him out of his seat and pushed him towards Nick to shake his hand.

There had been a couple of small technicalities to follow the meeting: paperwork, the alteration of working hours, and a change in office. After Harry had moved all of his belongings into the newer and much larger workspace, he'd started work on his first big assignment as Marketing Manager and refused to resurface for lunch, or until the end of his shift for that matter.

So, Harry is currently sitting on the subway on his way home with the biggest, shit-eating grin plastered to his face. He's so caught up in his own little world that it takes him approximately three stops to notice the man sitting opposite him on the train.

Cookie dough man.

Now, Harry would never identify himself as manly, at all. But the squeak that comes out of his mouth puts even him to shame. Harry's hand flies to cover his mouth but it doesn't matter; the man has earphones in and is staring intently at something on his phone.

Harry panics. He doesn't know what to do. The man he's been pining over for two months is sitting so close to him and his brain just won't work. Does he say hello? Does he pretend he doesn't seem him? What does he do?!

The man laughs at something on his phone and Harry's eyes soften. The man's laugh…

Harry has never heard anything so beautiful. He practically melts into his seat.

Harry takes a moment to study the man. He's wearing simple black sweatpants and the same hoodie from Fire Island, with Adidas printed across the front. His hair looks soft and falls over his forehead from lack of styling, and there's the shaping of a beard over his jaw. He looks so pretty and comfy and hot.

Harry accidentally hiccups, quite loudly, and the man looks up from his phone. He locks eyes with Harry and his eyes widen dramatically, his mouth falling open just a bit.

They sit like that for a moment, just staring at each other. Harry sort of loses himself in the man's eyes, as cliché as that is. They look even bluer in the light of the train than they did two months ago and Harry probably hasn't seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

"Got any cookie dough, mate?" The man asks and Harry laughs loudly.

They continue to stare at each other and Harry's about to make a terrible joke about finding some ice to break before the man seems to shake off the shock and clears his throat, holding his hand out across the carriage.

"I'm Louis," the man says, and if Harry wasn't sitting down, he's sure he would have fallen  
over. 

Harry was right, he does have a beautiful voice, and in the empty air of the Subway, it washes over Harry like sunlight—exactly how he predicted.

"I'm uh, I'm Harry," Harry chokes out, reaching to shake Louis' hand. "Harry Styles."

The man—Louis—smiles softly at Harry and lets out a little giggle.

"Well, Harry Styles, I'm sure you remember me. You shared your food with me and made me believe in kindness again," Louis says, and Harry is extremely aware that they're still holding hands. 

His hands are clammy and probably gross but Louis is holding his hand and it feels so so right. He wonders if Louis feels it, too.

"Of course, I remember. How could I forget a face like that?" Harry asks bravely and Louis laughs, rolling his eyes. "Did you like it?"

"The cookie dough? It was okay, kind of cheap and you could have picked some better flavours, but all in all, it wasn't too bad," Louis says, face stoic.

Harry sputters for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Louis cackles and lets go of Harry's hand to cover his mouth. Harry absolutely does not feel disappointed at the lack of contact. He doesn't.

"I was joking—calm down. The cookie dough was great. Thank you for sharing it."

Harry sighs in relief and lets out a small laugh as well.

"Well, that's good. I'm not sure I could talk to someone who doesn't share the same cookie dough values as me," Harry says in an attempt to be funny. 

He cringes inwardly before Louis cracks a giant smile and claps his hands, as if Harry had just said the funniest thing in the world.

"Right, right. Well, what have you been up to Harry Styles? Eaten anymore cookie dough?" Louis asks, leaning over in his seat.

Harry's acutely aware that there are other people on the subway, but he doesn't really care. He leans towards Louis and sits his chin on his hand.

"I just got a promotion to Marketing Manager. I'm headed home right now to celebrate by myself, with Jack Daniels and maybe Tina Fey.”

He briefly wonders if it's a little too soon to be sharing information like that with someone he doesn't know, who could easily follow him home and kill him in his sleep. Harry mentally rolls his eyes at the thought; Louis is tiny, as if he could hurt a fly.

"Wow, that's fucking fantastic, mate!" Louis exclaims and Harry preens under his praise. "I wish I was doing something like that with my life."

Harry frowns, "Why do you say that? What do you do?"

"Oh, I coach a little league baseball team. I guess I sort of do writing on the side but, God, I'm nowhere near an author," Louis says. 

His shoulders sort of sag and Harry just wants to reach over and wrap him up in his arms. He doesn't do that, of course, because Louis is a stranger and that would be weird, but the feeling is still there. 

"I wish I could coach a little league baseball team. That's pretty cool. I haven't got the coordination to even watch baseball if I'm honest," Harry says with a shrug. "And as for your writing—maybe you just haven't found the right muse yet."

Harry cringes because even if Louis doesn't, Harry hears the unspoken, "I could be your muse."

The corner of Louis' lips tug up in a small smile and his eyes brighten.

"Maybe...but who knows?" Louis says, reaching up to fiddle with his fringe. "Maybe I have."

Harry's cheeks heat up and he bites his lip to stop the grin that's threatening to break his face. Louis, perfect stranger Louis, thinks Harry might be his muse?

"Hey, now, don't get too cocky. I meant that guy over there," Louis says as he points somewhere to Harry's right.

Harry turns his head to look and can't help the laugh that bubbles out of him.

Louis' pointing to a bulky looking man who has his tattoo-covered arms folded across his chest. He's got a tangled beard that falls halfway down his chest and a ring through his eyebrow. It's not that that makes Harry giggle; it's the expression on the man's face. He clearly has heard them talking and is hitting Harry with a piercing stare. Harry stares back for a moment before Louis coughs lightly and Harry whips back around.

Louis' looking at Harry with a smirk on his face.

"What?" Harry asks, swiping a hand over his mouth. "Do I have something on my face or something?"

"No," Louis laughs. "You're just really cute."

He extenuates his words with a soft pat of his hand on Harry's curls. Harry might preen a little at his touch, but it's not important.

"Do you think this is kind of weird?" Harry asks, and as soon as the words are out of his mouth, he wants to shove them back in.

Louis' eyes lose their sparkle and Harry panics, grabbing Louis face between his hands before he panics some more because he's got this perfect strangers' face in his hands and he doesn't know what to do with it. Harry settles on just holding Louis' face and hoping he's not weirded out.

"No no," Harry starts, his voice catching on the words. "I don't mean that I just mean…"

Harry trails off when he notices Louis' eyes are trained on his lips and he swallows audibly. Out of habit, and definitely not to try and turn Louis on, Harry licks his lips. He watches Louis' eyes follow the movements before cerulean meets emerald and for a few charged moments, Harry actually thinks Louis' going to kiss him. Harry leans forward ever so slightly, indifferent to how close they are in the middle of a half full train. People are probably staring, Harry thinks, and it scares him a little bit when he realises that he really doesn't care. 

They stay like that, so close that Harry can feel Louis' breath on his lips, for half a minute more, and Harry can't help but think that if it were anyone else, this would be very awkward. But it's not anyone else; it's Louis, and Harry can't think of anywhere he'd rather be than right here in this moment.

When the overhead speaker pierces the tense air with a monotone "Franklin Avenue Station" and the doors of the subway slide open, Harry pulls back with a start and reluctantly gathers up his bag, standing up and stretching his back.

"This is my stop," Harry says and it's pathetic how gloomy his voice sounds.

Louis' looking up at him and nodding, his mouth turned down in a small frown. Harry hates it and thinks that someone as beautiful as Louis should never be allowed to frown.

Harry stands there looking at Louis for a moment, unsure of what to stay, before the subway doors start closing and he squeezes through them quickly. He turns and looks through the glass and his eyes meet Louis'. They look sort of sad, but Harry doesn't let himself think about that too much. Louis gives Harry a small smile and waves at him from his seat. 

Harry can't even muster up the energy to move his face because he just feels so tired all of a sudden, standing on the opposite side of the glass to where he wants to be. And then suddenly, Louis is gone—whisked away by the subway and Harry can't help the sinking feeling in his stomach that comes with the thought of never seeing Louis again.

He’d let him go once again.  
-

When Harry's lying in bed later that night, he’s having trouble sleeping for what seems like the millionth night in a row, and all he can think about is Louis. Louis, Louis, Louis, Louis. Thoughts of Louis overwhelm his brain, blur his vision and squeeze at his heart.

Harry tries really, really hard to push the thoughts out of his head and focus on getting to sleep, but he can't. His brain can't convince his heart that he shouldn't be thinking like this. He just can't help it. He can't.

Because Harry is the sentimental type. He's caring and loving and when he falls, he falls hard. And boy, has he fallen for Louis. It's almost dangerous, Harry thinks, how attached he becomes to someone in such a short period of time. He scares people off a little bit with his big heart and never ending love, but it's just something that comes as easily to Harry as breathing. He loves to love, and so what if he's pining over someone he really only just met and will probably never see again? He's allowed. Harry sighs and scrubs his hands over his face when he thinks that this is the second time he's been in this dilemma over Louis. He needs to get over it.

Harry tries harder and harder to get to sleep, but a stirring in his stomach tells him that maybe—just maybe—he could get to sleep with no trouble at all if he had Louis beside him. And Harry wants it. He wants it so bad. 

He wants to cuddle Louis and call him beautiful and tell him that he loves him every second of every day. Harry wants to be able to make sweet, sweet love to Louis and not worry about him not being beside him when he wakes up in the morning. He wants it so much his heart aches with the thought of  
calling Louis his.

Harry rolls over and screams into his pillow, the sound muffled by the cotton in his mouth. He is so fucked.

-

The next couple of days at work are slow. It seems the novelty of earning a promotion wears off by the second day, because when Harry gets to work the next day, it's like nothing's changed.

Harry's just finishing up an email when his phone rings. It's his assistant, Cara, and Harry has to pull the phone away from his ear when she begins speaking a little too loudly.

"Harry, there's this absolute psycho on the phone and he's asking for you," Cara says frantically. "I've hung up on him, probably 50 times, but he keeps calling back. He says he won't stop until I let him talk to you but he doesn't have an appointment and his name's not in our files."

Harry bites at his fingernails while he listens. "What's his name?"

"Ah, Louis?" Cara says and Harry almost bites his finger off. "He didn't give a last name."

Harry doesnt react when he distantly hears Cara mumble something that sounds suspiciously like, "So we couldn't call the cops on ‘im.”

Is it his Louis? Cookie dough Louis? It can't be. 

"Harry?" Cara shakes Harry from his daze. "Do I put him through?"

Harry stutters, "Ah, yes. Put him through."

"Okay, boss," Cara says and Harry rolls his eyes at the cheekiness in her voice.

Harry hears a click that signals the call has been transferred and he can't speak. He hears soft breathing on the other end of the line and fish-mouths for a moment before he hears a quiet voice.

"Harry?"

It's like the air is punched out of Harry. He splutters a bit as he tries to gather himself. It's Louis. He's on the phone to Louis and he can barely function.

"I really hope this is the cute Harry I met on Fire Island and the subway because if not, I'm screwed," Louis says with a nervous chuckle and Harry finally finds his words.

"It is, it is. Oh, my goodness, is this Louis?" Harry cringes a little at how desperate he sounds but decides he doesn't care when Louis laughs.

"Yeah, it is. I'm so glad I found your number," Louis says and Harry blushes a deep shade of red.

"Yeah?" Harry breathes, waiting impatiently for Louis' response.

"Yeah," Louis replies, and Harry's smile threatens to break his face. "Crazy glad actually…"

"How did you get my number?" Harry says and he hopes it doesn't come off as irritated.

Louis just laughs and relief falls over Harry.

"Harry, do you know how many 'Harry Styles' there are listed as being in New York City?" Louis asks and Harry frowns, because no, he doesn't know.

"No, how many?"

"One. That's you, thank goodness. I thought I might have to call a hundred different places before I finally found you," Louis says before pausing for a moment. "Maybe this is fate's way of letting me know I'm not a complete stalker for looking up your number."

Harry laughs at that and shakes his head in disbelief. "I would have done the same, I just didn't have your last name. No offense, but I don't think I would have gone through literally thousands of Louis' for your number, no matter how desperate I might have been to get it."

"Hey, that's a bit lazy. It makes me feel unappreciated."

Before his and Louis' little rendezvous on the subway, Harry probably would have been tripping over himself to apologise. But today, today he can hear the little smirk in Louis' voice even though he can't see it and he doesn't worry.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry teases before taking a deep breathe to keep his voice steady as he starts speaking again. "So, Louis, was there a specific reason you called?"

Harry looks up from his desk and Nick's banging on his office door and telling him to hurry up because they've got a meeting in five. Harry tries to use telekinesis to get Louis to say what he needs to as fast as possible.

"Oh, right," Louis sounds nervous and Harry tries not to think about what he's going to say for fear of dying right there at his desk.

"Now, Harry!" Nick shouts through the door and Harry holds up on finger in a silent plea for just one more minute, please Nick.

"I have a really important meeting in five minutes so I was thinking you might be able to talk a little faster please, Louis," Harry says as kindly as humanly possible.

Louis scoffs. "Says the one who talks at a speed of like 4 words per minute."

Harry laughs softly. It's true, he knows it is. Liam and Niall are forever teasing him about it.

"Anyway," Louis starts and Harry mentally prepares himself as he grips his desk so tightly his knuckles are turning white. "I was thinking, only if you want to, of course, that I'd like to take you out on a date?"

Harry sucks in a breath and smiles so brightly he's sure if anyone were looking, it would blind them.

"Really?" Harry asks and the hope in his voice is clear.

"Yes, really," Louis snickers. "As if I'd ask you out on a date if I didn't mean it."

"I was just checking," Harry says, a little on the defence.

"So…is that a yes?"

Harry's eyes widen when he realises he hasn't given Louis an answer yet and he almost bites his tongue off in an attempt to get the words out faster.

"Yes!" Harry exclaims, and he doesn't even have the pride to feel embarrassed at how desperate he sounds. "Yes, I want to so bad. God, I've wanted to go on a date with since I first saw you at Fire Island."

Louis chuckles. "Well, that's good for me then. I was thinking I could pick you up at your place…maybe tonight? Sevenish?"

If Harry had anything planned for tonight, he mentally erases it from his schedule and puts 'date with Louis' there instead, in imaginary permanent marker.

"Y-Yes, yeah, I can do tonight. Absolutely," Harry says. 

Nick's back to bang on his door some more and Harry sighs in compliance, "I really do have to go, but if you give your number to Cara. I'll text you, yeah?"

"Cara. She's your crazy arse assistant, right?" Louis asks and Harry laughs a little too loudly.

"Yeah, that's the one. I've got to go. See you tonight," Harry says with more confidence then he's had throughout the entire phone call and hangs up before Louis has the chance to reply.

Harry takes a moment to collect himself, because he just got asked out by the boy that's been in the forefront of his mind for over two months and it's kind of a big deal, before he jumps from his chair and follows Nick into the boardroom with an extra spring in his step.

-

"I have to cancel. There's no way I can go. I have nothing to wear!" Harry exclaims as he tugs roughly on his curls and examines himself in the mirror. "I can't go. It's a simple as that."

He's got his back to them, but Harry can feel Niall and Liam roll their eyes at him from their positions on his bed.

It's approximately 6:55 and Louis will be knocking on Harry's door any minute now.

"You're being a knob, Harry," Niall says with a scoff, “and kind of pretentious."

Harry crosses his arms over his chest in a huff, "Am not."

Liam laughs, "You are, Haz. You need to calm down. You have plenty of things to wear and you're going on this date. Niall and I aren't going to let you chicken out because then we'll have to listen to you whine about how you let him get away for another 2 months before you miraculously run into each other again."

Niall and Liam share a little fist bump and it's Harry's turn to roll his eyes. He turns back to his reflection and inspects his outfit. He looks fine, in a pair of black skinny jeans, a sheer top and his sheepskin jacket, but fine just isn't good enough.

Apparently fine will have to do because as soon as Harry opens his mouth to complain again, there's a knock on the door.

Harry groans and shoves his face into his hands. He's not ready for this.

"You're ready, Haz. You have been since you met Louis. You'll be fine," Liam reassures him and Harry loves Liam's ability to always know what he's thinking.

"Okay, yeah," Harry says, nodding his head frantically before pulling his beanie over his head and grabbing his wallet and keys.

Before he leaves his room, he turns to his friends with a watchful eye, "You better be gone when I get back…just in case.”

Niall snickers. Harry ignores him. 

"Don't eat too much food and lock the door on the way out. I love you both."

They chorus an "I love you" as Harry heads for the door and he can't help but smile. He really does love his friends.

Harry stops in front of his apartment door and takes a deep breath before he grabs the handle and yanks the door open.

Losing all of the air in his lungs like it's been knocked out of him is inevitable, Harry thinks. He can't really breathe and he's not sure he could talk even if he tried because Louis is standing in front of him and he looks so so beautiful.

Louis' wearing black skinny jeans and a white tee and Harry wonders how he looks so so gorgeous in something so simple. There's a denim jacket sitting snugly on his shoulders and his hair looks fluffy as it sits freely across his forehead. There're Vans on his feet and Harry barely knows him, but in weather like this, Vans just seem so…Louis. Harry knows he's practically eating Louis up with his eyes, but he can't help it. He doesn't think he's ever seen anyone look this good in his life.

Harry just doesn't know what to say. He's pretty sure his brain is currently disconnected from his mouth, because what comes out next makes him wish the ground would swallow him up.

"I want to fuck you so much right now."

Louis' eyes widen and blood rushes to his cheeks. He looks down at his shoes and shuffles his feet a bit before looking back up at Harry.

"Right back at ya," Louis says with a small laugh and suddenly all of the tension in the air is gone and they're both doubling over laughing.

"So," Louis starts when he finally finishes wheezing, "should we go?"

Louis holds out his hand to Harry and Harry swallows before tangling his fingers with Louis' and shutting the door behind him. Louis leads him down the stairs and out into the chilly February air. Harry snuggles into Louis' side a little to warm himself up and he smiles when Louis snuggles right back.

"May I ask where you're taking me?" Harry asks as he runs a thumb over Louis' hand.

Louis glances at him with a smirk, "I mean, you can ask, but that doesn't mean I'm going to tell you."

"Cheeky," Harry laughs. "It better be nice though. I can't commit to anyone that doesn't know how to pick a nice restaurant. I'd end up eating McDonalds on the day of my engagement."

Harry fakes fainting and Louis' hand tightens in an attempt to hold him up while he giggles wildly.

"McDonalds? How scandalous!" Louis yells into the quiet night air. "In-N-Out Burger is one hundred percent the way to go for an engagement. Everyone knows that."

Harry laughs lightly and they fall into a comfortable silence. They're about three blocks from Harry's flat when his phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out quickly. There's a text from Niall letting him know that they've vacated his flat, accompanied with about 15 winky faces. Harry rolls his eyes and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

"Bad news?" Louis asks and Harry glances up at his curious eyes.

Harry shakes his head.,"Ah, no. That was Niall, one of my best mates, letting me know that he and Liam have left my flat. They were in there when you arrived."

Louis nods thoughtfully before he stops walking completely and Harry almost trips when their connected hands force him to stop, too. When he turns back to Louis, he's looking at Harry with a ravenous look in his eyes and Harry's face heats up under his gaze. Harry's eyes travel down to Louis' lips and he almost whines when he notices that Louis' got his bottom lip trapped between his teeth and he's nibbling hard enough to break the skin. Harry's hand is aching under the clenching of Louis' fingers but he hardly feels it.

"Louis?" Harry asks, voice wavering slightly.

Louis' silent for a moment, just staring at Harry, before he opens his mouth to speak.

"What would you say if I suggested we just skip dinner and go back to your flat?" Louis asks carefully and his voice is about an octave lower than usual and God, does that alone make Harry's dick twitch in his jeans.

"I, uh, yes," Harry stutters and he tightens his grip on Louis, tugging him back in the direction of his flat.

Harry isn't ashamed to say that he's almost running in an effort to get back to the apartment, because Louis' keeping up the pace beside him, even though it means he has to take an extra couple of steps to match Harry's big ones.

Not soon enough, Harry's fumbling with his keys and trying to shove the wrong one into the lock on his door. He tries for a moment more before Louis gently removes the keys from Harry's hand and unlocks the door himself. Harry smiles at him gratefully and pushes into the apartment. The door is barely closed behind them before Louis' crowding Harry against the door and connecting their mouths in a hot rush of lips and tongues.

Harry's heart is pounding as Louis ruts his hips into Harry's and, fuck, if that isn't the best thing he's ever felt. Harry sucks Louis' bottom lip into his mouth and the moan that escapes from Louis' vibrates against his lips. The kiss is bruising and crushing and so so good as Louis tangles his fingers in Harry's hair, tugging softly. Louis nibbles at Harry's bottom lip before pulling away and Harry whines at the loss of contact, following Louis forward in an attempt to reconnect their lips.

Louis puts a warm hand on Harry's chest to stop him and his face hovers millimetres away from Harry's. Their lips are almost touching, but not quite, and Harry resists the need to surge forward and capture Louis' lips again. Harry can feel the heat of Louis' mouth gravitating towards his as they breathe each other's air, and Louis' hard on pressing hotly against his own. Harry's knees weaken slightly and he's so so dizzy with lust that he's not sure how much longer he can stand.

The air is charged when Harry gives up, rushing forward to push his lips against Louis' again, his tongue just short of fucking into Louis' mouth. His hands work their way down Louis' back, fingers splaying over his arse before digging his fingers in and massaging the flesh. Louis moans into his mouth and his hips buck up against Harry's in response.

Louis' massaging their tongues together when Harry has a fleeting moment of sanity and realises that if they don't take this to his bedroom soon, he's going to be coming in his pants like a bloody teenager. He tightens his grip on Louis' butt and when he starts to lift Louis up, Louis goes easily, wrapping his legs around Harry's waist without breaking their kiss.

Harry's trying to find his way to the bedroom when Louis starts sucking on Harry's tongue and Harry almost drops him, tripping over a groove in the carpet and stumbling into a wall. 

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," Harry mumbles against Louis' lips, but Louis just twists his hips into Harry's in response and continues massaging their tongues together.

Harry almost trips again and then he's dropping Louis onto the mattress and peeling off his jacket, before crawling onto the bed and recapturing Louis lips with his. They stay like that for a while, with their tongues swirling together and their hips rocking against each other shamelessly. Harry's not going to lie, he hasn't felt this aroused in a very long time. But, God, Louis is just so damn gorgeous and if he keeps biting at Harry's lips like that, Harry's going to fucking lose it.

Harry pulls away reluctantly and Louis pouts at him until Harry brushes his lips over Louis' once more.

"Have you…? What do you want…?" Harry falters in embarrassment. 

He hasn't done this in so long and he's not sure about anything. Especially not with Louis.

Louis' eyes soften and he moves his hands to hold Harry's face softly, "It's okay, okay? We can do whatever you want."

Harry nods anxiously and ruts his lips against Louis' a little more and moves his mouth down to suck a mark into Louis' neck.

"I mean," Louis starts, his voice trembling, "I wouldn't be opposed to you fucking me into the mattress if that's something you'd want to do?"

Harry moans loudly, grinding his hips into Louis again, before pulling back and hovering over Louis to study his face. Harry spends a moment searching for a sign that Louis might be joking, just in case, but all he sees is Louis' blown out pupils and his wet, pink lips.

Before he can even really comprehend what's even happening, Harry's yanking at Louis' shirt in an attempt to get it off and mumbling, "Yes, yes, yes, off, off, off."

Louis helps him in between kisses and when his is off, he tugs at Harry's shirt too.

"You, too.”

Harry's struggling a little to get his shirt over his head as Louis lurches up against his hips, heaving at it with no luck whatsoever.

"Sometime soon would be fucking fantastic," Louis grumbles as he wrenches the shirt over Harry's head.

Harry's stays there for a moment, hovering over Louis as he admires the expanse of his chest. He didn't really picture Louis with tattoos, but there's a big 'it is what it is' splayed across his chest in cursive and chokes at the thought of coming over the string of letters. Harry files the thought away for another time and leans down to kiss over the tattoo, biting hard enough over the 'h' that he's sure it's going to leave a mark. Louis preens and draws in a shaky breath as Harry kisses down his stomach, tugging at his happy trail with his teeth.

"I swear I'm going to come in my pants if you keep doing that," Louis chokes out, raking his nails through Harry's hair. "Get your fucking dick in me already."

Harry can't help it, he laughs. It's the most ridiculous wording of the request he's ever heard and it's just a little funny. Louis huffs a bit but Harry can see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Well? What are you waiting for?"

Harry snaps back into action at Louis' words, sliding his hands down Louis' body to the waistband of his jeans. He looks up at Louis through hooded lashes as he pops the button on Louis' jeans and pulls down the zipper. Louis grumbles a little from the bottom of his throat as Harry tugs the jeans down over Louis’ arse. His hard on is tenting in his briefs and Harry presses a tender kiss to the underside through the cotton, mouthing at it slightly and making Louis cry out as he grips the sheets.

Pulling Louis' briefs down his legs, Harry has to take a moment to collect himself, because it is the most beautiful dick he's seen in his life. His mouth is so close to Louis' prick and Harry wants wants wants so badly to just suck him off right there, but he knows what Louis wants, and that's really all he cares about right now.

To distract himself, Harry focuses on his own jeans, yanking them down his legs as they pull his underpants down with them. His dick is standing alert against his stomach and he resists the urge to touch it just yet.

When Harry looks up, Louis' watching him with dark eyes, his mouth fallen open as he tugs lazily on his own cock. Harry whimpers as he looks at Louis and heat starts to pool in his groin. Fuck.

Harry grapples to the side of his bed and yanks open his nightstand, rummaging around for the lube and condom he always keeps in there. When he finds them, he raises them above his head in victory and Louis chokes out a laugh.

"Hurry up, you idiot," Louis breathes, absolutely no menace attached to his words, as he follows Harry with watchful eyes.

Harry runs his hands down Louis' legs and back up before gripping onto his hips, his fingers digging in so firmly he can feel the bone.

"You're sure?" Harry asks carefully.

Louis nods in response and Harry grabs a pillow, positioning it under Louis' lower back to keep his hips up before he grabs the lube, slicking up his index finger. Harry teases his finger at Louis' hole for a few seconds, gently brushing his finger over the puckered pink flesh. Harry lets Louis grind his hips against the pillow for a moment before he's pushing his finger past the ring of muscle. Louis sucks in a breath as Harry's finger bottoms out, Louis' soft hairs tickling at his knuckle. Harry waits a moment before he crooks his finger, searching for Louis' prostate. When he brushes against the bundle of nerves, Louis clenches around his finger and his whole body trembles in response.

"Yeah, yeah," Louis moans. "Right there."

Louis' moans go straight to Harry's dick and he gives himself a quick squeeze. Louis pushes his hips down onto Harry's finger as Harry continues to massage Louis' prostate. Louis keeps whimpering and both his hands find their way into Harry's hair, yanking roughly and drawing a grunt from Harry. Harry strokes aimlessly at Louis side with his free hand to distract him as he pulls his finger out. Louis whines at the loss while Harry slicks up a second finger and pushes them back in.

"Is that good, baby?" Harry purrs as he crooks his fingers and thrusts them against Louis' prostate again and again and again. "Do you like that?"

Louis sobs, nodding his head frantically as he chokes out a "Yes, fuck, yes."

Harry wiggles his fingers around for a moment longer before he pulls them both out, giving himself a few gentle jerks before spreading some lube over his cock.

He can feel Louis' eyes all over him and he gets so wrapped up in Louis Louis Louis for a moment that he forgets what he's supposed to be doing.

"Come on, Haz," Louis groans, pulling Harry down for a quick kiss.

Harry pulls himself to his knees and lines his cock up against Louis' entrance before sinking inside of Louis. Louis chokes out a yell and Harry pauses for a moment to allow Louis to adjust. Harry drinks in the sight of Louis, naked and spread eagle for Harry on the bed, with sweat rising on his chest and Harry buried deep inside him. He's so beautiful and Harry wonders how the hell he got so lucky.

Louis shoves his arse into Harry's hips and Harry jumps into action. He grabs at Louis’ hips and draws back just far enough before he's pounding back into the smaller boy with quick, deep thrusts. The noises that escape from Louis mouth each time Harry slams into his prostate are obscene and Harry feels a spurt of pre-come squirt into the condom. Harry continues to fuck into Louis roughly as he bends at the waist and licks into Louis mouth. Louis' hands fly to Harry's back and he digs his fingernails into the flesh near Harry's spine, dragging them hungrily across Harry's skin.

And it’s all so fucking perfect. Harry’s not sure how he got so lucky.

His thrusts start to get sloppy and he pulls back from Louis' lips, whining low in his throat at the trail of spit that connects their mouths. He braces himself with his hands on either side of Louis head before he controls his thrusts and pounds into Louis rhythmically, not breaking their eye contact.

Harry's muscles start to heat up and he can feel the shockwaves start to make their way through his body. It's not long before Louis yanks on Harry's hair absentmindedly and Harry's coming in long, hot spurts, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he screams Louis' name.

Harry tries his best to fuck Louis through his own orgasm but the earth is spinning and he can barely hold himself up. He pulls out slowly and collapses to the side of Louis, nipping at Louis' neck as he begins to tug on his dick. Harry runs a finger over Louis' slit to make use of the pre-come as he pumps at Louis' cock. 

Louis is close, Harry can tell. His eyes are clenched shut and he's letting out a whimper with each pull.

"Open your eyes for me, baby," Harry murmurs as he kisses along Louis' jaw. "Look at me, love."

Louis' eyes open slowly and they're completely black as he stares at Harry under unruly wisps of his hair. Harry brushes his free hand over Louis' forehead to remove the hair that's plastered there by sweat.

"I want you to come for me, baby," Harry whispers huskily. "Can you do that, baby? Can you come for me?"

Louis pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods, eyes locked on Harry's. Harry keeps  
up his rhythm, tugging on Louis' cock with all the energy he has left.

Harry leans down and nibbles on Louis' ear, "You're my baby," Harry coos and that's all it takes before Louis' coming over his chest, his hips bucking up into Harry's hand as he screams Harry's name.

Harry pulls Louis through his orgasm and waits until his body is fully relaxed before he places a tender kiss on Louis' lips. Harry kisses Louis' nose before he hauls himself off the bed to grab a towel from the bathroom.

When he comes back, it's to find Louis naked and smiling and staring up at Harry with wide eyes. Harry takes a second to admire him: his lax body, his blissful expression, and the sweaty strands of hair that have crept back down to his forehead. Louis looks properly fucked and Harry can't help but feel a sense of pride that he was the one that made Louis look like that.

"Where'd you learn how to do that?" Louis asks with a smirk as Harry wipes the towel across Louis' stomach.

Harry laughs, "Lots of practice."

"Hey!" Louis complains.

Harry laughs again and leans down to tug Louis' bottom lip softly between his teeth.

"Just kidding, baby."

Louis hums at the pet name before sitting up in bed, taking the towel from Harry and wiping it over Harry's skin, cleaning him up, too.

They sit in comfortable silence while Louis finishes dabbing at Harry's stomach, before he throws the towel to the side and snuggles down into the bed, pulling Harry with him.

Louis automatically pulls Harry to his chest and Harry wonders just how Louis knew he likes to be the little spoon. Harry pushes back into Louis' body and tangles his fingers with Louis'.

"That was a fun date," Harry says with a smile and Louis snorts.

"Yeah, Haz," he says in reply and Harry preens a little at the nickname. "Maybe we could do it again sometime?"

Harry rolls his eyes at the fact that Louis actually thinks he has to ask. "Obviously."

Louis laughs. "Just checking."

Harry nods as he snuggles further back against Louis and the last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep is how nice it is to have Louis' soft breathing against his shoulder.

-

When Harry wakes up in the morning, Louis is still breathing evenly behind him, pressed up against his back with his arm tossed across Harry’s waist. Late morning sun shines through the crack in the curtains, painting the entire room a warm shade of orange, and all Harry can think is about is how good it feels to wake up to the promise of more.

**Author's Note:**

> All the love xx


End file.
